


Intervention

by Wahnsinn



Series: Rammstein requests [8]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26214409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wahnsinn/pseuds/Wahnsinn
Summary: Richard has problems of his own, but worries about Oliver and decides to stage an intervention.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Christoph Schneider | Doom
Series: Rammstein requests [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689187
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> This fiction is written for a prompt. The entire prompt can be read in the end notes.

“Verdammt!” Richard slammed his fist on the table so hard that his beer bottle jumped several centimetres before falling over. As the beer poured out of the bottle and onto his notes, a long line of loud, German swear words poured out of Richard.

While Schneider reached over, straightened up the now almost empty beer bottle, trying to save Richard’s notes from drowning, Oliver raised his eyebrows and glanced worriedly at his angry roommate.

Richard clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles were whitening. His mood had increasingly worsened over the past few weeks, and fits of rage were not uncommon. He hated it. The feeling of not being in control of his emotions was frustrating. Richard had always been emotional, but normally, he could funnel that into productivity.

That was before he realised that he was in love.

It could not have happened at a worse time. Richard had just started up a new band project which just felt right. All the band members seemed to want the same thing, they were all willing to work really hard for it, and they had the time to do so because they all came from messed up relationships. In addition, the chemistry between them was good.

 _Perhaps a little too good_ , Richard thought wryly as he watched Schneider shuffle off to the kitchen. Schneider and Oliver had been his roommates for a while, friends for years, and they all got along great. The two of them were also part of the new band, which made everything so much more complicated.

Richard wasn’t sure when exactly he had started looking differently at Schneider. Christoph Schneider, the sweet and enthusiastic man who loved drumming more than anything, and who worked harder than anyone he knew - perhaps save for himself - to reach his goals. Maybe it was that passion for his craft that had won Richard over. Maybe it was his kindness, how he seemed to sense when Richard was feeling down and always tried to cheer him up. Or maybe it was as simple as his great body, his light blue eyes, the soft jawline, the tiny curls, and the captivating smile behind slim lips.

“You okay?” Oliver asked, an odd undertone in his voice.

Richard realised he was looking at the doorway to the kitchen. Setting his guitar aside, he rubbed his face with his palms, slightly embarrassed. Had he been caught staring? He didn’t dare look at Oliver. Instead, he started picking up the wet sheets of paper in front of him, letting the beer drip off them before draping them across the back of the sofa.

“You know those pillows will smell like shit if they get all soaked by beer,” Schneider remarked as he returned from the kitchen with a towel. He sent Richard an overbearing look as he started cleaning up the mess on the table.

“They already smell like shit,” Richard replied, but obediently reached for an old newspaper. Folding it out on the floor, he moved the sheets from the sofa and put them on the paper for them to dry. The ink had started to stain, but he could still read his writing, the countless notes with ideas to try out and ways to improve songs.

Richard had always been seeking success, and he had been part of several bands already. There was just something special about this new project. Even though they hadn’t played together for that long, he had a feeling that this could be it. And if that was the case, there was no way he would risk messing it all up just because of his own stupid emotions.

It didn’t help that Schneider was bending over, sticking his ass out seductively as he wiped the beer off the table, and even more so when patting the towel on the floor afterwards to catch what had spilled down there as well. Of course he didn’t really do it seductively, it was just the way the human body worked. Still, the sight of Schneider’s firm ass just in front of his face made Richard flustered, and he could feel himself almost blushing.

“Come on, enough, it’s not like we clean this place that carefully,” he said, giving Schneider’s butt a smack - partly because he wanted to, partly because he needed him to stand up before it all became too much for him to handle.

Next thing he knew, he got a wet and pretty disgusting towel straight to the face. “Maybe you should drink your beer instead of spilling it then,” Schneider retorted.

“Fuck you, too,” Richard grimaced, tempted to throw the towel back at Schneider, but instead, he flung it in the direction of the kitchen. It landed on the floor with a wet thud.

The drummer sighed, picked up the towel, and disappeared into the kitchen. Soon after he came back, carrying two beers. Putting down one on the table in front of Richard, he sat down next to the miserable man, and put his arm around his shoulder. “So, want to talk about it?”

Richard could see real concern in his light blue eyes. “Not really,” he replied, grabbing the beer in front of him as a distraction. From across the table, Oliver was still studying him, and their eyes met for a moment. Richard quickly looked away. It felt like the bassist could see right through him.

They sat in silence for a while before Oliver suddenly looked at his watch, stood up, and headed for the door. “I need to go,” he excused himself. “Don’t wait up for me. Later!”

Both Richard and Schneider stared in perplexity as Oliver grabbed his jacket off the hook on the wall and got ready to leave. It was not at all common for him to go out alone in the evenings. Though as soon as the bassist closed the door behind him, Richard became painfully aware that he was alone with Schneider, and that he had the drummer’s arm around him.

Taking a big drink from his bottle, he started thinking about which story to tell Schneider to explain his mood - because he knew there was no way around it now.

\-- 

The room was dark, but Richard lay with his eyes wide open, staring into the darkness. In his mind, he replayed the evening after Oliver had left. As expected, Schneider had pressed him for information about what was bothering him. Richard had, reluctantly, explained how he just wanted the new band to succeed so badly that he got frustrated when the ideas in his head didn’t translate well into the actual music.

It was partly true. In Richard’s head, he could hear the songs, he heard the various effects, he knew how he wanted everything to sound. He could sit for hours working on just one riff, making everyone else go mad from hearing the same thing again and again. Yet Richard heard the difference, those tiny changes in intensity, or distortion, or sometimes just the feeling with which he played the riff.

Schneider had nodded as he listened, and Richard had leaned his head against the drummer’s shoulder. Physical contact with his friends was normal, but it had become increasingly hard being so close to Schneider. The scent of him smelled better than any perfume. His skin was so soft, and the touch of his fingers so delicate despite the powerful sound they could create as soon as they were given drumsticks to play with.

And then there was the eyes. Schneider had the most beautiful eyes. They were almond-shaped with a colour so clear and blue that it gave him almost an angelic look. Richard knew he was far from an angel, none of them were. Still, there was something wonderfully innocent and naive about Schneider. Behind the rough rock drummer facade, he was a truly kind man - a man Richard wanted nothing more than to be _his_ man.

A sound brought Richard out of his reveries. It was Oliver coming back home. Richard heard him quietly move across the floor to the bathroom. The alarm clock read almost two in the morning. What had Oliver been doing out this late? Did he have a girlfriend that he hadn’t told anyone about? Oliver wasn’t the most talkative about his personal life, but Richard considered himself pretty good at reading others, and he hadn’t picked up any girlfriend vibes from his roommate.

 _I’ll have to ask him about it tomorrow_ , Richard thought. The distraction had made him finally able to stop thinking about Schneider, and he felt tired. Soon after, he drifted off to sleep.

\-- 

“Late last night?” Richard asked as soon as Oliver stalked out of his room the following morning.

“Mhm.” With a yawn, the bassist disappeared into the bathroom.

Richard scratched his head. “Do you know if anything is up with Oliver?” he asked Schneider, who didn’t seem interested at all.

“Why would anything be up with him?” the drummer replied, taking a sip of his coffee, flipping through an old magazine.

“He didn’t come home until almost two. It’s not like him. Maybe he met a girl or something? I hope he still has time for the band,” Richard said, slightly worried.

Schneider just laughed. “Come on. You know Olli. If he had met someone, he would be beaming like a lighthouse. Besides, you know we all put the band before everything else. I’m sure having a girlfriend - or a boyfriend for that matter - wouldn’t be a problem.”

Richard almost choked on his coffee. “You think Olli is gay?”

“Richard!” Schneider rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying that I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem for the band if he found someone. And I have no idea if Olli likes guys or girls, I don’t care, that’s his business.”

“If I what?” Oliver stuck his head out from the bathroom.

“Nothing, Olli! Just hurry up so we can get going,” Schneider replied, and the head disappeared again.

Richard stared into his coffee. “How about you?” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but his heart was pounding so hard that he was sure Schneider could feel the vibrations from it.

“Me what?” Schneider looked confused.

“Guys or girls?” Richard mumbled, still staring at the black liquid in his cup. He could feel Schneider’s eyes on him, but didn’t dare looking up.

“Well, you know I’ve had girlfriends,” Schneider started, and Richard felt a knot forming in his stomach.

“But there are guys I find kinda hot, so I guess - both?” Schneider shrugged, smiling a big, innocent smile. “How about you?”

Richard had almost lost his ability to speak. Schneider liked guys. He liked _guys_. There was a chance. A tiny glimmer of hope had been lit inside him, and it had kicked off a huge tornado of emotions that he could barely control. Richard wanted to jump up and down in excitement, before realising that it didn’t matter. There was no way he could put the band in jeopardy.

It took all he had of restraint to focus enough to be able to reply. “Same, I guess,” he managed, glancing over at Schneider to see his reaction.

The drummer got a playful spark in his eyes. “Maybe I should ask you out then,” he smirked.

Richard gulped. “Yeah, that would be a _great_ idea. We could keep it all in the band, and have one big orgy during rehearsals.” His voice sounded more sarcastic than planned, and he saw the spark in Schneider’s eyes disappear, only to be replaced with - no, of course it couldn't be disappointment.

“Orgy?” Oliver asked, stepping out from the bathroom, a puzzled look on his face.

“Nothing, Olli!” Richard and Schneider answered simultaneously.

Richard quickly stood up, eager to get away from the awkward situation. “If you’re ready, let’s go. The others are probably waiting.”

\-- 

“I really think you should talk to Oliver.”

Richard lay on the couch, his legs resting across Schneider’s lap. Another day was coming to an end. Most of it had been spent in the rehearsal room, where they had made progress. They had several songs more or less done, only details remained. As usual, Richard obsessed over them. In between that, his crush on Schneider, and his worry over Oliver, he had thrown another fit of rage as soon as he was back in the apartment.

Schneider had, as always, listened to him, then talked him to his senses with his calm voice of reason. Oliver was absent. Richard had no idea where he was. More often than not, he took off after rehearsal, not coming home until late at night. The few times he went straight back home, he immediately disappeared into his room.

While he still managed to do his job at rehearsals, Richard had a feeling that the man was running on beer, caffeine, plus the boost he got from whatever he was doing at night. He had tried to ask a few times, but Oliver had elegantly dodged his questions by asking about what he and Schneider did while he was gone. Richard always answered the same thing - _nothing_ \- and Oliver would sigh, nod, mumble _of course not_ , and that would be the end of the discussion.

“I don’t know why you’re so concerned about Olli,” Schneider said, tapping his fingers on Richard’s leg. “So, he has a life outside of the band. He’s still showing up to every rehearsal. Besides, it is kind of nice and quiet here with just the two of us - at least when you’re not fretting out.”

Richard sent Schneider a death glare. He had to agree though, he loved being alone with Schneider because then he didn’t have to worry about someone getting the wrong - or rather, the right - idea about his feelings for his drummer and roommate. Often, he had to restrain himself in order to not stare too much.

Sometimes he even wondered if he, subconsciously, became angry just so that Schneider could calm him down. Richard loved feeling his body against his own, even if it was just an arm around his shoulder, or like now, his fingers tapping on his leg. Every night when he went to bed, he wrapped the blanket tightly around himself, wishing he had something totally different to keep him warm.

“You know that I can’t help stressing about the band,” he mumbled. “But I’m also worried about Oliver. He looks tired. I don’t want him to get burned out or something. Please talk to him?”

Schneider sighed. “Fine, fine, I’ll do it. How about we just watch a movie and wait up until he comes home? I’ve had way too much coffee anyway.”

Unwilling to give up on a few more hours on the sofa with Schneider, Richard agreed - especially since watching tv meant that he had to change position, which gave him an excuse to lean up against his roommate. When they sat close like that, which they often did, he could pretend they were together, even though it was just in his imagination.

\-- 

Close to two in the morning they were still sitting on the sofa - Richard resting against Schneider, who absent-mindedly played with the guitarist’s hair as they watched the end of The Untouchables. Richard loved feeling the warmth of Schneider, he loved movies, and he loved the music of Ennio Morricone, and he almost felt a bit annoyed when Oliver returned, disturbing them just at the end.

“What are you doing up this late?” Oliver asked, smiling as he saw the two of them on the sofa. He looked tired. Dark rings had formed under his eyes, and he was still carrying his bass.

“Was just about to ask you the same.” Schneider paused the movie. “You’re staying out late almost every night, and you are starting to look like a zombie.”

Oliver set his bass bag down. “Well then, this zombie is going to bed. Good night, guys,” he said, and headed for his bedroom.

Schneider wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily. Standing up, he blocked Oliver’s path, and Richard could see that Oliver was getting uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you sit down for a bit, we just want to talk to you.” The drummer placed his hand gently on Oliver’s arm.

“Is something wrong?” the bassist asked. Looking slightly worried, he complied, and let his long body sink down into an armchair while Schneider sat back down on the sofa.

Schneider cleared his throat. “So, Olli, we’re worried about you since you stay out so late all the time. You know that you can always talk to us if you have a problem,” he said, trying to sound all serious, almost like a parent having a grown-up talk with his child. Richard couldn’t help finding it extremely hot.

Oliver looked wide-eyed at Schneider. “Huh?” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in confusion.

“We just want to know what you’re doing out so late at night, since it’s not like you - and it seems like you may not be getting enough sleep.”

“I’ll be more tired if you don’t let me go to bed.” Oliver grabbed the armrests of the chair and started to stand up, but Schneider held out his hand and motioned for him to sit back down.

Unable to hold back any longer, Richard spoke up. “Come on, Olli. We’re not idiots. We know that something is going on.”

“Nothing is going on.” Oliver was clearly frustrated. “Can I go to bed now, please?”

Schneider sighed. “As soon as you have let us know what’s up. Are you sure you don’t have something you want to tell us?”

Oliver looked defiantly at Schneider, then at Richard, then back at Schneider. “Fine,” he said, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. “I do have something to tell you. You _are_ idiots. Actually, you’re both ignorant fools.”

While Schneider almost looked hurt, Richard was getting angry. “You are making us worried, and then you call us idiots? What the hell, Olli!”

“Yes, idiots.” Oliver narrowed his eyes. “You really haven’t figured out why I stay out yet? Then no wonder why you haven’t realised that you’re in love with each other. It’s so obvious! You are practically undressing each other with your eyes, and I was _really_ hoping that by giving you some time alone, you would do it for real and just get it over with!”

Richard stared at Oliver, his mouth half open in shock.

Oliver stood up and glared angrily at Richard. “When I saw you guys on the sofa together just now, I thought that you _finally_ had come to your senses and gotten together. You act like a couple already, so how about you talk about it and start fucking, because you have been so uptight lately that I swear some cock would help you loosen up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need sleep.”

With that, Oliver stomped off into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

The tension in the living room was palpable. Biting his lip, Richard looked blankly at the frozen picture on the tv screen. His entire stomach was one big knot, his mouth was dry, and he was terrified at what would happen next. In his mind, he saw the disaster he had tried so hard to prevent happening in slow motion.

Schneider was tapping his fingers on his thighs, eyes fixed on the chair Oliver had just left. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if he wanted to say something, but changed his mind. Finally, he spoke up.

“So,” he said quietly, “you’re in love with me?”

Richard swallowed. “I…” he tried, but his words were stuck in his throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Schneider shifting, and he could feel the man’s gaze without even seeing it.

“I hope Olli is right, because…” Schneider took a deep breath, “I’m in love with you.”

The world stopped. Richard felt Schneider’s hand on his cheek, slowly turning his head until he stared into two light blue eyes with an expression he had never seen before, an expression so beautiful that he could not look away even if he wanted to. Unable to speak, he did the only thing he could think of - he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Schneider’s.

As Schneider returned the kiss, the knot inside Richard’s stomach exploded into a feeling of happiness. The only thing that mattered was right in front of him, and he let his worries get washed away by the taste of Christoph. His Christoph?

_His Christoph._

They were both smiling when their lips parted. Schneider caressed Richard’s cheek with his fingers. Richard let his own fingers play with Schneider’s short curls before lying back, taking the drummer with him, their bodies soon tangled on the sofa as they shared more wonderful kisses.

“These pillows really do smell like shit,” Schneider frowned when they finally had to take a break to breathe.

Richard grinned. “I told you so. And much as I’d like to keep doing this, it’s late, so we should probably get some sleep unless we want to be zombies tomorrow, too.”

The disappointment on Schneider’s face was obvious, but he nodded, stood up, and helped Richard up as well.

Richard looked shyly at Schneider. “You know - you could sleep in my bed tonight. Just sleep, of course. And only if you want to.”

Schneider seemed slightly surprised, then a big smile spread on his face. “Of course I want to,” he said, pulling Richard into another kiss before hugging him, tightly. “And maybe,” he whispered, “maybe we could ask Olli if he could stay out late one last time tomorrow.”

Richard laughed. “Poor guy needs his sleep. I say we just buy him a pair of earplugs.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> This fiction is written for the following prompt from [Rammfic.dreamwidth.org](https://rammfic.dreamwidth.org/288.html):
>
>> **Schneider/Richard, slow romance**  
>  Just as the title says, really. Era doesn't matter, but slight preference for them being roommates and Richard simultaneously really wanting to get together with Schneider while being conscious of their situation (i.e. being roommates and trying to start a band together).  
> Bonus points for:  
> -Comfort fluff. Richard being anxious and Schneider being there to calm him down  
> -Oliver realizing Richard's crush and being a wingman  
> *Further bonus point if Richard protests to it because he can't deal with his feelings
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Any feedback is, as always, appreciated. Thank you for reading.


End file.
